Page 43 of The British Bastard

Miller sneers at me. "I've got you dead to rights, and we both know it."

"Things that happened in another lifetime have no bearing on the present. Why don't you distract yourself by fucking Gloria?" I feign surprise. "Oh, that's right. She prefers me. Bad luck, mate."

His face turns crimson, and he snarls words through his clenched teeth. "Wait'll I show this to your cute little girlfriend."

"Go on, show it to her." I slap his arm. "She loves a good comedy."

"Maybe I can do better than showing her your record." He twists his mouth into a nasty expression. "I'll make sure she has a record too."

"Oh, yes, I'm so bloody terrified."

I managed to speak those words in my best sarcastic tone, but I wonder. Can he do what he suggested? He is the chief of police, and I'm not at all sure that I can leverage those photos to get him off my back. I need more than pictures of him shagging Gloria. Am I prepared to become a blackmailer? For Catriona, I will do anything. This cretin doesn't understand what I've been through, the things I've done, or how far I'll go to protect the people who matter to me.

"Good night, Chief Miller," I say as I step back and start to close the door.

"Wait up, wiseass. Do you want your girlfriend to go to prison?"

I stop with the door halfway closed. "What are you talking about?"

"Here's the deal." He pushes past me to enter the house, and I'm too stunned to stop him. Miller slams the door shut. "If you don't do what I say, I'll invent some charges for your girl. She'll spend a good long while in the pokey. That means prison. Hard time."

I seize his shirt collar and smack him into the wall. "Careful, Chief. I'm not a mild-mannered professor who will crumble under pressure. If you try to take me down, I will make sure you go with me."

And if he hurts Catriona, even makes her shed one tear, I will snap his fucking neck.

"What I want shouldn't be hard for you to do," he says. "Nothing you haven't done before. Just get something for me."

"Such as?"

He digs a folded-up sheet of paper out of his trouser pocket and raises it for me to see. "Get me this, and I'll forget about your girl and your record. You have twenty-four hours."

Miller tucks the folded paper into the breast pocket of my shirt.

I back away from him and watch as the wanker saunters out of the house. Maybe I should've stopped the blighter and beaten him until blood covered his face. But violence has never been my strong suit, and assaulting Miller won't solve my problem. It would give him cause to arrest me and probably Cat too.

She won't be home for a while yet, which gives me time to search for a solution. I grab my handheld video camera and get in my car to follow Darnell Miller. I would've thought a police chief would spot me tailing him, but Miller spends the entire drive back to his house talking on his mobile—angrily, based on his gesticulating hands and the way he shakes his head. He swerves into the other lane three times. Luckily, there are no other cars near enough for him to cause an accident.

Police are meant to care about public safety. But no, I am not surprised that Miller only cares about himself.

Though I'm not adept at tailing someone, I've watched enough television shows to understand the basics. Picking someone's pocket? I could do that blindfolded. But surveillance is outside of my wheelhouse. I slow down as Miller turns onto a quiet street on the outskirts of town, on the opposite side of Ballesteros from where Gloria lives. He must be going home. I've slowed down enough that I'm still two blocks away when Miller pulls into the driveway of a small house. I turn down a side street and park along the curb, then walk to the house I assume Miller owns. His car still sits in the driveway, but I don't see the man himself. He must have gone inside already.

I head down another side street and find that I can access his unfenced backyard quite easily. Employing my less than prodigious surveillance skills, I creep up to the house and peek into the windows as I make my way toward the front. I've just reached the kitchen when Miller stomps into that room, snarling at whoever he's talking to on his mobile. Miller moves closer, and I can finally hear what he says.

"Gimme a break, Gloria." He grasps the nape of his neck. "I'm trying to get it for you. Maybe if you hadn't bled me dry buying that house and your goddamn car, I'd be able to give you what you want."

Miller snaps his flip phone shut, scowling at the floor, and shoves the mobile into his pocket.

Gloria bled him dry? I wonder if she's the one demanding that he steal a diamond necklace for her.

The police chief shoves both hands into his hair, his shoulders sagging. Then he brings out his mobile and makes a call. "Hey, baby, it's me. Need to see you now, please." His frown mutates into a sly smile. "Oh, yeah, you know exactly what I need. Let me tell you all the things I'll do to you."

I try not to listen while he describes in graphic detail what he wants to do with whatever woman is on the other end of that call. Did Gloria ring him to apologize?

Miller chuckles. "Don't worry about Gloria. She's a conniving little snake, but I'll be free of her soon. Then we can go away together like we planned because I'll sell that damn house and the car to finance our getaway." He listens, and his smile broadens into a grin. "Oh, yeah. My money and yours, that’s all we need."

He disconnects the call and sets about gathering food items—champagne, strawberries, chocolates, whipped cream, and other sensual delicacies. He means to seduce the woman he was talking to on the phone. It's not Gloria, which means this man has two mistresses.Blimey. Where does he find the energy to please two women?

When Miller leaves the kitchen, carrying his romantic supplies, I sneak around to the living room windows. The police chief walks into that room a moment later. He turns on a stereo system, and music full of bass beats and lingering saxophone notes emanates from it. Sounds like a sodding porno film in there. Miller sets up his mini buffet of treats and puts the champagne inside a bucket of ice. Then he sits down on a recliner and shuts his eyes.

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